


After the grave

by Elisback



Category: Critical Role (Web Series), UnDeadwood (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Gen, It wouldn't leave me until I wrote it, Not Beta Read, Post-Episode 2, Speculation, UnDeadwood, Western Gothic, character injury, don't ask me i don't know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-15 00:22:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21244442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisback/pseuds/Elisback
Summary: Directly after the end of episode 2. My brain wouldn't let me rest until I wrote it down, so there it is. The first half has been beta'd by my wondrous partner, the second half hasn't. Episode 3 will probably prove me wrong, but this is how Arabella and the gang react in the light of what happened.An empty grave, nail marks inside a coffin and many more questions than they have answers for. What can possibly go wrong?





	After the grave

Silence. Stillness. After the frantic digging, it is almost jarring. None of them move, in fear that it would set Arabella off, would send her running and screaming looking for her dead sister, apparently raised again. But Arabella doesn't move. Doesn't speak. Clayton is not even sure she's breathing anymore, only comforted by the thought that the good Reverend would have said something already if she weren't. A hint of movement comes from Miriam, her hand coming up slightly in her companion's direction but the gesture stops abruptly as Arabella stands, slowly. Most of the bottom of her dress, her hands, her arms, are caked in dirt and mud, streaks of it across her neck and forehead. The makeshift wooden cross she used to dig falls from her hand to the ground with a dull thud and it is as if a spell has been broken around them all. Where there was only silence, they all start to hear the sounds of life again. Wind rustling some leaves in a nearby tree, a flock of birds flying above and calling to each other, and then the soft sound of fabric shifting as Miss Whitlock turns around and walks away from the grave. And she keeps walking, straight ahead, away from the rest of them, from that empty grave and the coffin with scratch marks on the inside. Aly lets his gaze jump from the Reverend, unmoving, knee-deep in the grave, to the area around him still free of the fog that covers everything else, to finally fall upon Arabella's figure. The fog around her does not move, does not part, she walks without disturbing it, almost looking the part of some spirit without a hold on the tangible world.

Still, not one of them makes any moves to join Arabella, too shocked by what had transpired in the last few minutes. Miriam can see Clayton's jaw working, as if he's trying to find his words, his eyes somber and his face resigned. She can see the clear distrust on Aly's face, he who smiles so easily. The Reverend has his rosary in hand, eyes closed, head bowed, and mouthing a soundless prayer. Whether it is for himself, having just defaced a recent grave, or for whatever is left of the soul of Arabella's sister, Miriam is not sure. She finally starts to follow the younger woman, with Clayton a few paces behind her. Carefully, mindful of where they step, for the fog still doesn't part for any of them that isn't the Reverend, she reaches Arabella just in time to see her fall to her knees, head bowed towards the ground, defeated. But in the same breath that it takes Miriam to lower herself next to her companion, Arabella suddenly throws a punch and hits a gravestone to her left with a scream. Clayton freezes for a second at the sight before coming up behind Miss Whitlock and restraining her loosely, lest she hurts herself more or hurts anyone in this strange group they make. He looks at Miss Landisman and has just enough time to see a range of emotions pass on her face - surprise, horror, pain, pity - before she schools her features, looks briefly to the rest of their companions, and turns again to face Arabella.

“Darlin', what foolishness overcame you?” she asks sternly. In the absence of an answer, she tries again, softer. “May I take a look at that hand?”   
This time, Arabella nods minutely, head bowed towards the ground once more. Miriam looks at Clayton and his arms, and he relents, giving Miss Whitlock her freedom of movement back. He lets the older woman take the hurt hand in hers, inspecting it. He doesn't need to turn around to know that Matthew and probably Aly have joined them, standing a few feet behind, for the fog clears a bit in the periphery of his vision. Aly passes Miriam his flask, to help with the cleaning of the blood and the wounds on Arabella's hand, even though she has her own. The whisky in hers tastes better anyway, his can go towards the preventing of infections.

“That was a stupid idea,” he says lightly, “though it was a good punch. I wonder where a lady like you learns that.”   
“I agree with Mr Fogg, darlin', that was a stupid idea. You coulda hurt yourself more and then what?”   
Slowly, Aly watches as Arabella's eyes rise from the ground to look at her hand, and then at the both of them. He can see unshed tears in those eyes, eyes that close in a wince as Miriam cleans the wounds again.

“I used my left hand, don't worry I can still shoot with my right one,” she finally says.

“That's not the concern, here,” utters Miriam at the same time as Clayton whispers “I wouldn't want to see you punch with your right, then”, which makes Aly snickers.

“Why would the fog not protect her? Every damned grave in here is covered by that fog, but not my sister? How come that she deserves this? Hasn't she suffered enough already?!”   
Arabella is looking at them now, asking questions they don't have any answers for. Silence envelops them again, as they huddle around her. The Reverend swipes the bottle from Miriam's hand and as he goes to drink from it, he makes a face at the scent of the alchohol and passes it back to Aly without drinking.

Eventually Clayton who, keeping an eye on their surroundings, suggests they go fetch the horses and walk back to town. On the way there, he thinks about what they will have to do if they cross Arabella's sister's path, but it is Miriam who voices it.

“Arabella, darlin', I hate to ask but I have to know. I think we have to know. What will happen if we see your sister?”   
Arabella stops, grief on her face for a second, and then resumes her walking. Miriam loops their arms together, giving her support should she need it. The group stays silent, giving her time to think, as she touches and fiddles with the small bottle that is her necklace. After a few minutes, she draws in a breath, readying herself.

“If we ever cross my sister's path,” she starts, plainly “I would ask of you to let me handle it. I'd rather do it myself.” And after just a few seconds, she adds “Again.”   
She hears the good Reverend trips behind her and his exclamation of “I'm sorry, what?”, feels the shocked stares of her companions. And she keeps walking.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading until the end :)  
I apologize for the long run-on sentences, the French in me doesn't know any different.  
I hope you liked it, and I can't wait to be proved wrong by everyone in the next episode!  
Much love.


End file.
